Author's Note: Welcome all, to the final chapter of Fire and Wind. There is so much I want to say but I will leave that to the story. I hope you enjoy it.

Epilogue: The Forever Game

And I miss you

Most of all

When autumn leaves

Start to fall

It was raining on graduation day. The forecast had been wrong; the sky was stormy and grey. The sun strained through the clouds in weak bursts. But that did nothing to dull the atmosphere. The third years were radiant as they made their way down the aisle.

Tezuka led the procession with slow, steady steps that were always the same distance apart. His fly away hair was neatly combed back so that his brilliant hazel eyes were fully visible. His head was held high and his voice did not waver as he accepted the diploma on behalf of the entire year.

When he turned to face the audience, there was the smallest glint of a smile on his face. The room erupted into cheers. Eiji was shameless; his boyish face was already streaked with tears of joy. Inui stood, tall and unmoving, with an easy air of confidence. Kawamura was clearly trying to restrain tears but his upper lip was shaking visibly. Oishi was flawless at Tezuka's right hand, clutching the Japanese flag with steady hands and keeping his gaze straight ahead.

And then there was Fuji.

Fuji was grace itself. His soft lips were parted in a soft, gentle smile and his azure eyes were open and clear. When the headmaster called his name, he all but glided to the podium and took his rightful place as class speaker.

The room fell silent.

Even from the very back row, Ryoma could see the glint in Fuji's eye. It was wholly triumphant.

Ryoma saw this as the perfect opportunity to quietly rise from his seat and slip out the back door. He didn't need to hear it.

He didn't need to hear Fuji promise that though they were all moving on to separate walks of life, they would always have a bond that would last them forever. Ryoma didn't believe in that sort of thing and he knew that if anything, Fuji believed it even less.

Ryoma didn't realize his feet were carrying him to the tree he had lounged under his very first day at Seigaku until he was there.

This was his tree. And then, slowly, it had become Momoshiro's tree as well. And then Eiji's. And then Fuji's. Every day they ate lunch under this old tree, Eiji and Momoshiro would often compete to see who could ingest the most sugar before passing out. Fuji rarely ate; he was more of a dinner person.

Ryoma let out a little snort. All the little details he had picked up about the honey haired tensai over the past few weeks could fill a book.

Fuji didn't like tea, just hot water and lemon. He drank his coffee black, except on Sunday mornings. On Sunday mornings he would add a single cream. Fuji also insisted on cooking every time Ryoma came over. Salmon was a specialty of his. Ryoma didn't like salmon but he never left a single bit of food on the plate.

Fuji was a morning person. Ryoma had made it a point of rising early, merely to see the sweet, nostalgic look that danced in Fuji's crystal eyes. Never mind that getting up before noon went against his natural instincts. Ryoma had long since realized that everything about this relationship went against his natural instincts, that didn't stop him from clinging to it like a desperate child.

Ryoma ran a calloused hand across the tree bark. It was damp, and only then was Ryoma reminded that the rain had not yet ceased. His lips twisted upwards into a bitter smile.

I wish it were autumn, he thought flatly, I wish we were at the beginning again.

No, I don't believe you

When you say

Don't come around here no more

So don't pretend to

Not love me at all

The pictures took the longest. The parents of the Seigaku regulars all wanted countless amounts of pictures; Eiji's mother took at least six. First just the third years: Eiji, Tezuka, Kawamura, Oishi, Inui and Fuji. Then Momo, Kaidoh, and Ryoma joined the group and there they stood: the Seigaku regulars. For the last time. The large, uncharacteristic smile Tezuka sported felt as if it would tear his face in half. But he didn't let it drop. It was just this one day. This one last day that he was captain. This one last day that they could call themselves a team.

After this, everything would be different. And so Tezuka saw no harm in smiling, though there was a deep, dark anguish in the pit of his belly that threatened to rise up and choke him. He smiled; he threw his arms around Fuji's shoulder like nothing had ever happened between the two of them. He took Eiji's hand when the red head looked as if he could stave off the tears no longer and reassured him not to cry, that were even brighter days ahead.

It's a wonder Tezuka managed to say that with a straight face. That, second only to renouncing his feelings for Ryoma, was the greatest lie he'd ever told. For Tezuka knew, without any shadow of a doubt, that the golden age had passed.

Nothing perfect could last. The best days, the passion, the turmoil, the friendship, the brotherhood…all of that would ebb away, slowly but surely, until there was nothing left but these pictures.

Someday soon, Tezuka would pass one of his former teammates-one of his former brothers-in the hallway and little more than a half smile and a nod would pass between them. Conversation would dry up, the calls would stop coming, and the reunions would become painfully awkward until they died out altogether. There would be nothing to talk about. Tennis had united them and without it, they were all fundamentally different. The others didn't see it yet…but they would. Very soon, they would.

Finally, the picture taking ceased. Oishi's mother came up to him and threw her arms around his neck. Tezuka smiled politely and did not pull away.

"Mama," he said sweetly, "Don't tell me you are going to cry too?"

The older woman pulled back and looked him in the face, eyes watery. She had Oishi's eyes. The type of eyes that were incapable of keeping any secrets.

"It took me two years to convince you to call me that," she chuckled, squeezing both of his hands tightly. Her face was gentle. "I hope I will still see you often, Kuni-chan. Our door is always open for you."

Tezuka swallowed back the lump that formed in his throat. He blinked, shocked at how her words touched him.

"I promise." He blurted out suddenly, before he could stop himself.

Tezuka. You can't keep that promise. You know you can't…

He bit his lip and once again, forced himself to smile. Just then, out of the corner of his eye, Tezuka caught Ryoma's gaze.

Ryoma did not look away. Tezuka's false grin softened into a soft, sad little smile. He titled his head back and shut his eyes, letting the newly emerging sunlight flicker across his face.

It was sunny like this…the first day I saw you…the sun broke through the clouds…and you were there.

Always there.

"I promise."

Nothing's quite the same now

I just say your name now

But it's not so bad

You're only the best I ever had

"Eij…"

"Shut up, Fuji. I'm not done crying yet."

Eiji buried his wet face deeper into Fuji's soft, cotton T-shirt. It smelled like laundry detergent. Eiji moved his face so that his nose was pressed into the crook of Fuji's soft elbow. There it was…the scent he'd been looking for. The only smell that could put the world back together again: lemon and wasabi.

The air in Fuji's bedroom was cool and clear. The curtains had been drawn back and the silver moonlight flickered in, illuminating the two boys huddled on the bed, grasping onto each other so that time would not tear them apart.

It had been an unspoken agreement that after the graduation party, Eiji and Ryoma would spend the night at Fuji's house.

Ryoma hadn't wanted to talk. After dinner, he'd quietly retired to the guest room and hadn't emerged since.

Fuji had let him be, and convinced Eiji, with much difficulty, to do the same.

Eiji had been crying sporadically for several hours now. Each time, Fuji would pull him close until the fit subsided.

This one had been going on for quite a while.

"Eiji," Fuji tried again, "You're overreacting."

"Shut up," Eiji snapped. "You're under reacting. So there."

Fuji chuckled softly and kissed the top of Eiji's forehead.

"You know that I'll always be here, right?"

Eiji didn't hesitate. Without a shadow of a doubt, he answered the question.

"Yes."

Fuji let out a contented hum.

"So why on earth are you crying?"

A sharp knock on the door cut Eiji off before he could respond.

Fuji was up in an instant. Eiji grinned wryly.

"Fuji-senpai," Ryoma's soft voice said tentatively, from the other side of the door. "Could you please come into my room for a moment?"

Eiji raised an eyebrow and shot Fuji a very suggestive look. Fuji's crystal eyes twinkled with bewilderment.

It was usually Fuji who instigated the couple's make-out sessions. In fact…other than that day in the hospital, it was always Fuji.

And far too often, Fuji was seized with the urge to further corrupt his young innocent in the most inappropriate of places. It had gotten to the point where Ryoma refused to take a bath at Fuji's house unless Eiji agreed to stand guard.

Fuji shot Eiji a quick, apologetic glance and then he was out the door. Eiji got a fleeting glance at Ryoma's face before the door shut. It was drawn, tired, and pale. Eiji frowned.

Maybe Ryoma was more bothered by this whole thing than he was letting on.

Eiji sighed. There was no use getting upset. Things changed, time marched forward, relentlessly. No one could stop it.

In these situations, the only thing that helped was tears and chocolate. Eiji scanned the room, looking for his schoolbag. He always kept a spare candy bar…or four…on him at all times. He squinted; it was hard to see in the dim light. He hopped off the bed and went for the candy. The loud, obnoxious blare of his ringtone, which was the theme to his favorite children's show, nearly stopped his heart.

Eiji let out a string of curse words that would have made even Fuji blush.

It's past midnight. Who the hell…?

Eiji picked up the phone without looking at the caller ID.

"Hello?"

There was silence on the other end, then some shuffling, and finally a hesitant voice said,

"Kikimaru-san?"

Eiji knew that voice. His mind grasped for a name, and after a moment, he had it.

"Yumi-san?"

It was Oishi's girlfriend. They had never exchanged more than six or seven words with each other. So why was she calling him now… and at this hour?

"Yes…I…Kikimaru-san, please forgive me for calling you this late, it's awfully rude of me but I…I was wondering if you were available to…to meet me? I…I'm going on vacation with my family and my flight leaves very early in the morning so if you…I know this is sudden but…do you think…could you meet me now?"

Eiji blinked.

"What? You mean…right now?"

Yumi's voice became a near whimper.

"I am so sorry, I should never have called this…please forgive me for my rudeness, I am so sorry, I will go-,"

She sounded desperate. Eiji felt pity overtake him. He had to admit, he had judged this girl harshly for reasons and events that she had no control over.

"No, Yumi-san, it's alright, really. Please don't worry about it. I can meet you, sure. I can be ready in half an hour."

There was silence and then Yumi let out a relieved sigh.

"Thank you so much, Kikimaru-san. Where…?"

"Do you live near Tyne Park? I could meet you there; it's safe at night because the police station is across the street."

"That's actually perfect. So…I'll see you in half an hour?"

Eiji bit his lip. He couldn't back out now.

"I'll be there."

So I put my arms around you, around you

And I know that I'll be leaving soon

My eyes are on you, they're on you

And you see that I can't stop shaking

Ryoma didn't even bother to shut the door. As soon as Fuji entered the room, Ryoma was on him. The steady pounding in his head matched the electric thrum of his heartbeat as Fuji's lips met his own. Ryoma didn't hold back this time, all his inhibitions had been discarded the moment he'd realized the truth.

There was no more time to be shy, to play coy, to set boundaries. There was simply no more time.

Ryoma wanted it all. And he wanted it now.

Fuji was more than happy to oblige. The tensai used the tip of his tongue to pry open Ryoma's mouth and explore every crevice, every hot little corner. Ryoma gasped into the kiss, letting out a guttural moan he hadn't thought himself capable of when Fuji's hand slid under his thin shirt.

Yes… oh, God…yes…

Fuji's long, graceful fingers trailed circles up and down Ryoma's belly, flitting up to his nipples and tweaking them every few seconds. Ryoma broke the kiss, desperate for air, and threw his head back, allowing the tensai access to his neck.

Fuji's soft, slightly damp kisses sent a sharp thrill up his back and he almost lost his footing.

"Bed," Ryoma managed to grunt, voice high and thin with desire.

Within seconds, Fuji had pushed Ryoma down on top of the covers, all the while not ceasing his ravaging.

The hand caressing Ryoma's chest moved southwards, winding itself into the waistband of Ryoma's shorts. Snap, pull, snap, pull.

Ryoma could take no more. His heart felt as if it was going to fly out of his chest.

He reached up a shaking hand and found Fuji's chest, clawing for the other boy's shirt, slipping his sweating palm under it, tracing the well defined, delicate muscles. He felt Fuji's body quiver, ever so slightly, and the fire in his own belly began to roar. His brave hand slipped down further still, further still…

And then, without any warning, Fuji was off of him.

The older boy's porcelain face was flushed, his crystal eyes were open and striking, but the smile on his lips was apologetic. Ryoma struggled to catch his breath, scrambling to his knees in furious indignation. His skin was on fire, begging for Fuji's touch.

"What are you doing?" Ryoma breathed hotly, tearing off his own shirt in the same motion and throwing it into the corner. "Don't stop."

Fuji opened his mouth to speak but paused when his eyes fell on Ryoma's bare chest. They burned bright with lust but still, Fuji shook his head.

"I think that's enough, Ryoma." Fuji said, usually calm voice wavering. "I don't think I can stop myself if we go on this way."

Ryoma ignored the tensai. He was too busy working at his zipper. Fuji's hand shot out and covered his own. The third year's face was bewildered.

"Ryoma, what are you doing? I said I think we should stop-,"

"I don't want you to stop." Ryoma said flatly, knocking Fuji's hand aside and yanking down his pants. They soon followed the shirt to some indiscriminate corner. Fuji's breath hitched in his throat.

The bulge in Ryoma's underwear was very visible. Fuji tactfully averted his eyes, though not before Ryoma saw his mouth part with want.

"I don't want you to stop." Ryoma repeated, reaching down to remove his final piece of clothing. His heart was beating so loudly he could barely hear and the ache in his groin was building to a near painful level. Though his hands were shaking and the last bits of his self control were screaming in protest, he was determined to complete his objective. "I want more."

Ryoma's voice was now pleading. His hands began to shake even more and it took everything he had not to break eye contact.

"I want you…I want you to be my first. I want to have sex. I want it now."

Fuji's cerulean orbs flashed with something that Ryoma had never seen their before.

"No."

Ryoma blinked.

"What? Bu-,"

"You don't want to have sex with me." Fuji's voice was flat and hard. "You don't want to do this."

Ryoma felt as if someone had driven a knife between his ribs. It hurt to draw breathe.

"What?" he whispered, voice shaking with the effort of remaining level, "Are you blind? Can't you see…can't you see how much I want you? How much I want this for us…I want you inside of me…I want you to be…"

"Just because your body responds to me, doesn't mean-,"

"But I love you!" Ryoma cried suddenly, unable to contain it any longer. "Don't you understand? I fucking love you…so…much…"

Fuji's gaze snapped back to meet him, mouth hanging open in a disbelieving little part. He reached out a tentative hand.

"Ryoma-,"

"Don't touch me!" Ryoma choked out, hating the tears that gathered at the back of his throat, at the back of his eyes. He was out of bed in an instant, stumbling towards the corner where his clothes lay. His cheeks, his eyes, his whole body stung with humiliation.

Fuji's voice grew tight with concern. He too, rose from the bed and made another grab for Ryoma, but he tore away.

"Ryoma, it's just sex, it has nothing to do with-,"

Ryoma whirled on him, golden orbs swimming with tears. His vision blurred, but he could very clearly see the horrified look on his senpai's face.

"It has everything to do with it!" he spat bitterly, clutching the wadded up ball of clothing to his chest. "You can't fuck me, because then you'd be permanently connected to me. You can't love me, because then you'd actually have to care about someone. You'd have to give a piece of yourself, your precious fucking secrets; you'd have to give them all away. You can't give me…you can't…"

The tears spilled over and Ryoma was powerless to stop them. Fuji stood transfixed, eyes wide and hand half stretched out in penance.

"You can't give me a reason to stay." Ryoma's voice broke; the sobs rose up and blocked his throat. He was gasping now, like a child, and he did not care. "I…have…to go…don't you…understand…I have…to…go!"

Fuji stepped forward, clear eyes clouded with sorrow.

"No, Ryoma," he said, panic edging into his tone, "No, you don't have to go, you don't have to-,"

"I'm moving back to America. They want me to train for the US Open and I said yes. Everyone else already knows." Ryoma whispered. "In two days, I'll be gone."

The silence that hung in the air then was deafening. Fuji stood still as a statue, bright blue eyes wide with shock. They were not sad. Or angry. Just…empty.

Then, finally, Fuji spoke, in little more than whisper.

"That's…wonderful."

Ryoma felt his heart stop.

"What?" he gasped.

"I'm so proud of you." Fuji's emphatic nod was genuine. His sweet, tender smile and easy chuckle left no room for doubt. "I'm so happy for you! This is what you wanted! This is your dream!"

Ryoma could've burst into fresh tears. He could've cursed; he could've hit Fuji with all his strength. But he did none of those things.

He laughed. The tears leaked down his face and mingled with his laughter.

"I'm an idiot," he managed, between a laugh that sounded too much like a sob, "I really am. I came here tonight looking for a reason to stay. Can you believe that? I wanted a reason to stay, a reason to forget tennis. What I've always lived for, the only thing that's ever really mattered. I came here tonight looking for something more important."

The laughing ceased. Fuji's face was blank, his eyes were pleading. But for what, Ryoma did not know.

"I wanted you to be the reason." Ryoma finished finally, casting his face downwards, so that his bangs hid his expression. His voice was soft and void of any emotion. "I wanted Fuji Syusuke to be my reason. But I'm…I'm really stupid. That's impossible. Because having you…and not having you all at once…"

Ryoma raised his head, golden eyes spilling tears freely, bitter smile etched onto his face.

"That's the worst kind of alone."

And then Ryoma left. He ran from the room, he ran from the house, he ran down the street and into the night.

And then, soon, mercifully soon, he would run to America.

And he would be gone.

Time, where did you go?
Why did you leave me here alone?
Wait, don't go so fast
I'm missing the moments as they pass
So wait for me this time

Eiji's conversation with Yumi lasted exactly twenty minutes. The girl was very precise. There was no crying, no tears, and no dramatics. It was simple.

And so now, at 1:49 AM, Eiji stood beneath Oishi's second story bedroom window, holding a handful of pebbles.

It was simple.

"Eiji-san, thank you for coming on such short notice…please forgive my rudeness. But I just didn't feel right leaving like this. I had to tell you…"

Eiji threw the first pebble. It missed. He'd never been a very good shot. He stood on his tiptoes, extending himself to his full height, and tried again.

"You need to know."

This one hit, but it was merely a graze. Eiji moved to the left, to get a better angle. He threw the third pebble.

"Oishi is too kind to say so himself…"

It missed. Eiji launched his fourth pebble.

"And too stupid to realize that his kindness is most cruel where it is most generous."

This time it hit dead center in the middle of the glass. Eiji's breath caught in his throat.

And then he appeared.

Oishi's olive eyes were cloudy with sleep. His baggy, worn blue pajamas were crumpled and stuck out at strange angles. But it only took him a moment to recognize Eiji.

"What I'm trying to say is…"

Oishi shoved open the window, shock and disbelief mingling with the sleepy expression on his round, boyish face.

The years hadn't changed him. Time had not scathed him. He was still Oishi. Sweet to the point of stupidity: Oishi.

"Eiji? What's wrong? What are you-,"

"He loves you."

"I love you."

"He has always loved you."

"I have always loved you."

"And he always will."

"And I always will."

Oishi's face was an uncomprehending mask for a split second, before breaking into the brightest smile Eiji had ever seen.

"Forever?"

Eiji only laughed a bright, carefree laugh that left no room for doubt.

"Stupid."

Time can't change this.

Time may change everything else.

But it can't change this.

So I put my arms around you around you

And I hope that I will do no wrong

My eyes are on you they're on you
And I hope that you won't hurt me

They all came to say goodbye. Luckily someone, probably Tezuka or Oishi, had warned them not to make fools of themselves and cry in the middle of an airport. Ryoma made a mental note to send whoever that wise, wise soul was lots of souvenirs.

Inui came first. He handed Ryoma a digital wrist watch that automatically adjusted its setting based on location. It also worked underwater and could do math through Calculus. If Ryoma hadn't known better, he would've said that Inui's glasses were misted over.

Next came Kawamura. He brought three jars of the special, homemade soy sauce that Ryoma loved so much. The power player gave Ryoma a smile that almost reduced the first year to tears himself.

Then Kaidoh presented his gift: a gift card for tennis supplies at a major, international chain store. The viper also put Ryoma in a skull crushing headlock before letting him go.

Oishi and Eiji combined forces and gave Ryoma a truly stunning scrapbook containing every match, practice, and hidden moment that the creepy fan girls had been able to capture on film. Eiji was the first to break the no crying rule.

As Ryoma allowed himself to be folded in the red-head's arms, he could not help but feel an overwhelming sense of affection for his senpai.

"Thank you for everything, Eiji." He whispered softly, "I am…I am really going to miss you."

Eiji only nodded. He was too choked up to speak. His obsidian eyes were filled with such pain that it hurt to watch, and Ryoma had to look away.

Next came Momoshiro. The purple eyed boy locked eyes with Ryoma and then, without warning, slugged the first year across the face.

"That," he said simply, "Is for leaving us. And I didn't get you a damn present. Presents are for people who aren't coming back."

Ryoma pressed a hand to his cheek, golden eyes crinkled in a smile.

"Ah, Momo-senpai," he responded simply. "I don't need a present."

And with that, Momoshiro wrapped the smaller boy in a bear hug with enough force to crush a small animal.

"Cocky brat."

"Moron."

And then, lastly, came Tezuka.

The captain made no grand speech. He put on no show. He simply walked up to Ryoma and wordlessly, handed him a small box wrapped in blue paper.

"Thank you, buchou."

"Don't open it until you get there."

"Alright, buchou."

They locked eyes. Dazzling gold met almond hazel. The rookie and the captain. The wild card and the pillar. So alike, yet fundamentally different. Unstoppable together. Some would even say perfect.

"Don't lose, Ryoma."

"I know."

"Now go. You'll miss your flight."

Almost as if the echo Tezuka's thoughts, a voice came over the loudspeaker. The flight was boarding: last call.

Ryoma opened his arms. The team poured into them all at once, crushing him beneath their weight, their warmth.

Their love.

His team. His friends, his brothers. His family. The best thing he would ever have or ever wanted to.

And then Ryoma turned and walked away, without looking back.

He couldn't look back. There was nothing left to break.

I think I'll go to Boston

I think I'll start a new life

I think I'll start it over

Where no one knows my name

It was raining when Ryoma's plane landed. It rained the entire car ride to the hotel and the entire night. The next morning provided no change. It was still raining. The sky was lamenting.

Finally, Ryoma could take it no longer. He changed into his tennis clothes, grabbed a visor and his racket, and headed for the local courts. He could've played at the hotel courts, but for some reason, he really didn't want to.

The court was outdoors, but Ryoma knew that with the US Open so close, there were bound to be some serious players around. True passion couldn't be stopped by a little moisture.

The rain sloshed beneath Ryoma's sneakers and pooled into his socks, but he paid it little mind. The visor kept his vision clear and the grip on his racket was slip proof. That was all he needed.

As he suspected, there were a few brave souls on the court who had braved the weather. Three young looking kids, probably not much older than him. Two Australian boys, brothers by the looks of it and a girl. The boys introduced themselves as Richard and Dan. They were only 15 and 17.

Ryoma's English was still flawless, so in no time they had organized a doubles match. Somehow, Ryoma ended up with the girl. Her long, dark black hair was plastered to her face by the rain but she didn't seem to mind at all.

Her clear, blue eyes and porcelain skin made Ryoma's heart clench. He shook his head.

No.

"I'm Rin," she said politely, extending a wet hand. "Rin Noda. Nice to meet you."

Ryoma nearly dropped his racket.

"You speak Japanese?"

She laughed.

"Is that your name then? 'You speak Japanese'?"

Ryoma stuttered for a moment before words came to him.

"Ah…sorry. I'm Ryoma. Ryoma Echizen."

Rin grinned at him.

"My father is Japanese and I spend my summers there. It's nice to see more Japanese pros out this year."

Ryoma felt excitement well up in his stomach.

"You-you're playing in the tournament?"

She laughed again.

"I know, I look young, but I'm really sixteen. And I'm not out here in the rain because it's good for my health, you know."

"Are there…are there more people like us? Kids, I mean?"

Rin's grin widened. "It was just us three. Welcome to the US Open's kids table, newbie."

One of the boys, Dan, shouted across the court for them to stop chit chatting and play already.

Ryoma was more than happy to oblige. It had been far too long since he had really played: entirely lost himself in a game of tennis. No fear, no stress, no pain. Just tennis. He'd almost forgotten how good it felt.

The boys were very good. They seemed to read each other's thoughts. It was nearly impossible to get a ball between them. They played without looking at each other, with tacit communication.

It reminded Ryoma of another doubles pair he knew.

Rin was a dragon on the court. Ryoma couldn't think of a better word to describe her. She was a power player, plain and simple, smacking the ball with force most girls (and boys, for that matter) could only dream of. But yet she had perfect control: fierce and graceful, just like a dragon.

The match eventually ended in a stalemate. The clouds now began to threaten thunder. They agreed to meet again the next day.

Ryoma watched them go. He wasn't quite ready to leave yet.

He gathered his bag and ducked under a large oak tree overlooking the court. It wasn't perfect, he was still getting wet, but at least now he had some protection.

It was then that he remembered Tezuka's gift. It still lay unopened in the bottom of his tennis bag.

He dug the little blue box out and studied it for a moment. It was impossible to guess at what was inside it. Tezuka was the least predictable person he knew.

A wave of nostalgia washed over him and he swallowed back a dry sob. With shaking fingers, numb from cold, Ryoma unwrapped the gift. Inside, lay a simple silver chain with a tennis ball charm on the end of it. Ryoma ran his finger across it and found a slightly raised portion along the side-a latch. It was a locket. Beneath the necklace, there was a piece of plain notebook paper folded in two. Ryoma's name was scrawled across the front in Tezuka's perfect, sprawling calligraphy.

Ryoma felt tears well in his eyes at the familiar sight. He blinked them back and unfolded the note.

Dear Ryoma,

I bought this locket for myself when I was a first year. You must think it silly-buying myself such a gift. But back then, there was no one important enough for me to give it to. It's a lucky charm, supposedly. I hope it keeps you safe. Be strong.

Tezuka

Silent teardrops trickled down Ryoma's face and he quickly folded the letter away, so that no harm would come to it. He tucked it inside his jacket, right next to his heart.

For every time you fall apart

There'll be a soul to guide your journey

But if you choose to turn away

There in the mirror you'll see my face

It was dark when Ryoma finally gathered his things and started to head back towards the hotel. The rain had finally stopped, leaving only a light, misting drizzle in its wake. The locket was cool against his neck. There were no pedestrians or cars on the road.

The quiet was strangely calming. The pale moon was just rising in the sky. Ryoma stopped for a moment under a street lamp, drinking in the quiet.

So when two arms wrapped themselves around his waist he didn't have time to react.

When those same arms spun him around and dipped him backwards, so that he was wholly dependent on the person standing before them, he didn't have the strength to pull away.

And when Fuji Syusuke looked down at him with perfectly clear, crystal blue eyes that glowed with pure, unadulterated sweetness, Ryoma was powerless to move. He could not speak, he had no breath.

"I couldn't give you a reason to stay," Fuji's voice broke the silence, high and soft, yet pulsing with fierce intensity, "Because I am not enough. I am not nearly enough for that. You are everything and I am nothing. You are the savior and I am the one who is lost. I could never presume to be your reason. But I am yours, if you'll take me. And I will follow you wherever you will go." Fuji took a deep, shuddering breath.

"I love you."

Ryoma still could not speak. Fuji pulled him upward, so that he was standing on his own two feet. But still he could not speak. His entire body was trembling like a leaf.

Fuji.

Fuji.

Fuji.

"How…" he finally managed to stutter, in a cracked little voice. "Why…"

"You aren't the only one who got a call from the US Open." Fuji said simply, brushing a strand of his damp honey brown hair back from his porcelain forehead. His eyes were burning more brightly than Ryoma had ever seen.

Ryoma's heart stopped.

"You're…here."

Fuji's cherry lips titled upwards in a tender smile. A true smile. The smile that had capture Ryoma's heart and still had it.

"Yes."

"You're not leaving."

"No."

"You love me."

"Yes."

"We have…time?" Tears sprung to Ryoma's eyes as the realization of what was happening hit him full on, like a shock to the heart.

Fuji was here.

Fuji was staying.

And Fuji was his.

It seemed impossible. It seemed too good to be true. And Ryoma didn't care.

Fuji raised his hands and cupped Ryoma's face, touch soft as a feather yet filled with an urgency that let Ryoma know the tensai had no intention of letting go.

"We have forever."

And when Fuji lowered his lips to meet Ryoma's own, a very strange thing happened.

Ryoma believed him.

So I put my arms around you, around you

And I'll never let you go

My eyes are on you

You

Final Author's Note: Thank you all. This has been a fantastic experience and words cannot express my joy that all of you chose to share this with me. I am actually toying with the idea of writing a sequel…but my decision will ultimately be based on you all's feedback. I leave it in your very capable hands. Thank you all.